


Farewell Kind Friends

by Narutwink



Series: Long Time Traveler [3]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Gun shot wound OW, M/M, but later there will be great happiness, general saddness, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-21 23:25:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/906187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narutwink/pseuds/Narutwink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire had seen the gun, he just didn't realize how much it would fucking hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Farewell Kind Friends

Grantaire had seen the gun. He knew what was happening and, by extension, understood on some level that he would be shot. What Grantaire did not know was how much it would _fucking hurt_. Grantaire watch the pull the trigger and he heard the shot fire but he didn’t feel the searing pain until Cosette screamed. It thrusted him back into reality and the pain him so suddenly he was unable to stand. He felt himself hit someone, it was Enjolras. 

Grantaire pushed the pain aside for a moment to see if the man was going to finish the job, or worse shoot someone else, but he had disappeared. Grantaire put a hand to his wound and collapsed to the ground. He saw Enjolras’s face and the expression on his face is one Grantaire hopes and prays to never see again. 

Enjolras is terrified. He’s scared and panicking and he can’t properly function he’s shaking so badly. Grantaire wants to reassure him, ‘nah tis but a scratch’ but he can’t seem to get the words out because 1) he’s bleeding because of a BULLET wound and 2) Enjolras is starting to cry. 

“Enjolras.” Grantaire sounds stronger than he feels and he thanks a god he doesn’t believe in for it. 

His voice snaps Enjolras out of his panic attack and he narrows his eyes and clenches his jaw. 

“I’m ok, I just…well you have eyes.” 

“I’ve got the ambulance on the phone.” Combeferre says, taking charge. 

“Thanks. An ambulance sounds a lot better than bleeding out on this sidewalk.” Grantaire says trying to make light of the situation, no one was laughing. 

“Why, why did you do that?” Enjolras asks. His voice is small and weak and something in Grantaire breaks because he has NEVER heard his boyfriend sound like that. 

The Les Amis had gathered around, excluding Bahorel and Jehan who were hunting down the shooter, and Joly had started to perform what minor aid he could offer. 

“Can you sit up?”

“I need some help.” Grantaire says wincing. 

Enjolras helped Grantaire to sit up and Joly lifted his shirt and his eyes grew when he the wound in Grantaire’s side. Joly pulled out alcohol, gauze and other assorted bandages. Grantaire had a quick thought of how much it was going to hurt before Joly applied the alcohol. 

Grantaire didn’t mean to scream as loud as he did, but he was entitled to it. Enjolras grabbed his hand pushed Grantaire’s head into his shoulder to try and double as comfort and a way to help muffle his screams. He started to breathe shallowly as Joly began to bandage him and the pain was beginning to make him feel dizzy and disoriented. 

“Grantaire,” Enjolras began. He had tears in his eyes and Grantaire couldn’t bare it anymore. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Grantaire sobs through clenched teeth.

“Just tell me why, it was so dumb and stupid and Grantaire, just why?” Enjolras begs. 

Grantaire gives him a pained smile and simply responds, “Because I love you.”

Grantaire felt his consciousness leave him as he saw the EMT’s running towards him. Before he was fully consumed by darkness he heard Enjolras’s voice crack as he says,

“I love you too, R. So much.”

 

X

Grantaire vaguely recalls, later, that he saw Enjolras in the ambulance with him but he is nowhere to be found when he wakes. Grantaire tries to sit up but, oh yeah, he had been shot. In the stomach. By a psychopath. 

Enjolras. 

‘No’, Grantaire thought. ‘He’s safe. I saved him.’ His stomach does something strange at this realization and he smiles. Grantaire was, even as useless as he could be at times, had protected one of the only things worth living for and in the world. He was surprised, however, that no one was in the hospital room with him. His friends, no doubt, would have barged in and sat and waited. It’s what they had done after Marius had gotten Appendicitis. As if on cue to his thoughts, the door opens and Grantaire’s heart beats a little faster. His stomach drops when an older man he doesn’t immediately recognize. 

“Uhm…hello?” Grantaire ventures. 

“Yes. You were the boy shot at the rally? R. Grantaire?” 

“Yeah. If you didn’t notice the insane amount of gauze and machines strapped about my body. It’s a pretty good indication, now can I venture as to WHY my friends aren’t here? Better yet, who are you?” Grantaire could tell he was on pain medication because his voice sounded differently, however, the drugs were not affecting his increasingly pissed off state at not seeing his friends, and importantly, Enjolras. 

“My name, as you can refer to me, is Inspector Javert. I am an officer with the FBI and I have come to discuss something very important about the man who attacked you.”

“Fire away…no pun intended.” It was completely intended.

“The man who shot you is a part of a radically religious and political cult. His members and he scout the country for groups, such as you and your friends, and try to eliminate the heads of the organizations, similar to cutting the head from a snake. They believe if they kill the leaders or founders, the group will lose hope and disband their pursuits.”

“So they’re crazy. I’m pretty sure I caught on to that, thanks.”

“You do not understand. This radical group does not end their hunt until they kill the leader. That is you.”

“Actually…I’m not. Honestly, you could argue I’m not really an influence at all. I just saw the gun and took the bullet for…for Enjolras.” He says blushing.

“Then they believe it is you. Now, they will stop at nothing to make sure you are dead.”

“Lovely.”

Grantaire had begun shaking; he had already almost died once. Now he was going to be hunted until he ACTUALLY died? 

“How am I supposed to, you know, not get killed by lunatics who disagree with us and think I’m someone that I’m not?” Grantaire asks dejectedly. 

“Make them think you’re dead.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“You are going to have fake your own death. The FBI has failsafe’s set up for when these people attack. You are guaranteed protection and a new life in another country, also..”

“Another COUNTRY?” Grantaire shouts. “What about my life, my friends, my…” Grantaire can’t make himself say it. Boyfriend. The word, even thinking about leaving Enjolras hurts beyond anything he’s felt. Even the gunshot.  
“I’m sorry but, you’re friends believe that you have passed.” 

Passed. His friends thought he was dead, Enjolras thought he had died. They were mourning him and he was breathing and ALIVE and…Grantaire was livid.

“THEY THINK I’VE WHAT? YOU SON OF A BITCH.” 

Grantaire uses what strength he has to rip the cords and I.V. out of his arm and leap from the bed. Javert grabs him, easily, because he was still incredibly weak.

“If you leave now and go to find your friends, you will put each and every one of them in danger and, most likely, get them and yourself killed.” 

That was enough to make Grantaire stop struggling. He couldn’t put the Amis in that danger and, Enjolras. He’d already taken a bullet for their leader once, would he be there to do it again? 

“I…when can I come back?” Grantaire asks. 

“When the radicals are finished targeting your group and we can properly apprehend them.”

“How fucking long will that take?” Grantaire demands through gritted teeth. 

“We are…unsure.”

“UNSURE? WHAT THE FUCK IS THE FBI DOING? SITTING AROUND WAITING UNTIL SOMETHING LIKE THIS HAPPENS AGAIN?”

Grantaire can’t breathe, his chest is tightening and his stomach is on fire. He has to sit down before he passes out again. 

“Inspector, may I interject?” A new voice had entered. An older gentleman, in doctor’s garb, had entered. 

“You may.” Javert says with suspicion. 

“Grantaire. I am Doctor Valjean. I understand that you love your friends, and more so your boyfriend, but I also know that you want to keep them safe. The only way you will be able to do that is if you do this.” He says calmly and compassionately. 

Grantaire was breathing shallowly, he could feel a panic attack rising in his chest and he realized how desperately he needed a drink. 

“I…If I have to do this then…there is one person I need to tell. Am I allowed at least that?” 

Valjean passes a glance at Javert who, with a considerable amount of disdain, nods his head. 

X

Grantaire looked at the man in front of him and he regretted his decision as much as he realized it needed to be done. 

“I’m sorry to put this on you. I shouldn’t, I know, it’s just I need to make sure things will be ok when I’m…gone.” 

Combeferre’s eyes were red and puffy. When the inspector had led the man to the hospital room, Combeferre had wasted no time in embracing Grantaire and crying. Grantaire and Combeferre had never been the closest, but, they were good friends and that was enough. 

“I’m not angry but, why me? Why not Jehan, or Bahorel or Courfeyrac?” Combeferre asks, legitimately confused. 

“’Ferre. You and I both know what is going to happen. You are Enjolras’s best friend and second in command. This…if he feels for me the way I’ve always hoped he does…then this is going to nearly kill him. You…you are going to have to pick up the pieces and keep everyone together and safe.” Grantaire says, choking on his words. 

Combeferre sits on the hospital bed and folds his hands in his lap. 

“There’s one more thing I need to ask of you.” Combeferre gives him a look that says, “Anything.”

“If you can…I’m going to have to get a new cell phone…If you can, keep me updated? Not every day, or even every week, but maybe once a month or every two months?”

Combeferre nods. “Of course.”

Grantaire is unable to keep it in any more, he sobs. Combeferre pulls him into a comforting hug. Jehan was the best, but, Combeferre had always been good at comforting those in the Amis. 

“I don’t. I don’t want to leave, ‘Ferre. I don’t.” 

“I know,” He says soothingly. “I know.”

“What if I never come back? What if when I do, they all hate me? Or blame you? I don’t want to make you the bad guy ‘Ferre.” 

“You’re not. They will understand and they will not hate you, or me. They will be angry, of course, but they will be more than overjoyed that you’re alive.” 

“Don’t let my funeral suck.”

Combeferre can’t help but snort. “It won’t. There will be rock music and confetti.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire squeaks out though sobs. He didn’t just mean the funeral though; in those two words he was thanking Combeferre for everything he was going to have to do.

Combeferre is made to leave, but not before giving Grantaire one last embrace and Grantaire can’t help but wish he had gotten to know Combeferre better. 

Grantaire feels utterly alone and it is numbing. He can’t make himself cry anymore and he, really, wants to die now. He had to stay strong though, and wait. If he could wait and make it, he would see Enjolras, Jehan, Courfeyrac, everyone again. 

He could kiss Enjolras and hold him again. He could apologize and tell him he loves him and never let him go again. 

But right now he had to endure, because that’s what the others had to do, and he would survive this.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's sad right now! And it will probably get worse, but eventually, HAPPY TIMES WILL BE HERE AT LAST. Just not now. 
> 
> If you need to yell at me more I'm on Tumblr at er-will-send-me-to-the-er.tumblr.com 
> 
> Come say hi!
> 
> I really love the babies and I love you all!


End file.
